


Safe and Solid, Protecting and Proud

by Cutearson



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Post Haven, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Skyhold, after in your heart shall burn, and bull has a drink, bull describes murder, cullen has insomnia and vale has anxiety, dorian has ptsd, implied but they have it, some heavy haven guilt, there will be other tags and ships if i continue this but i'll add them if and when i write more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-11-12 10:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18008954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutearson/pseuds/Cutearson
Summary: Haven hangs over everyone's head in Skyhold, guilt for some and terror for others. The inquisitor asks her commander for a favor, to ease the fear and her own guilt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Meet my inquisitor, Valéqueña Lavellan. Basically an excuse for her and Cullen to grow closer. I want to make it longer at some point but I wanted some feedback on how it is first, so consider this a prolouge of something to come. Not currently edited so I'm sorry for any errors, if you find them point them out and I'll fix them <3

Valé had decided that the worst part of her journey from the remains of Haven wasn't the cold. It wasn't the icy feeling in her bones, making her joints feel fused, painful, and then numb. It wasn't the way the fire in her palm that she conjured grew smaller every hour, until it went out completely, and she was too weak to conjure it again. It wasn't the gnawing hunger she had felt, or the fear that she would be found someday, in spring, dead and alone, or the way the tear on her hand seared with pain, at times the only thing keeping her concious.

Instead of any of that, she had decided the worst thing that came from the entire trek was Dorian. 

He watched her like a hawk, now, worry plain on his face when he thought she couldn't see. Always quick to frown and call for a coat whenever she had a shiver. Always two steps ahead of her in a fight, in danger where he shouldn't be in order to shield her. He was the first to shout her name when she was hurt, his voice a bit too shrill, and the last to stop shouting once the danger was over. An angry tirade every time, overflowing with admonitions as he healed her cuts and bruises, the hand he kept on her arm to keep her steady nearly tight enough to bruise her again, holding her still as if he were afraid she would slip through his fingers, gone, dead, like he thought she had been. 

"What are you thinking," he would say, or something similar, "You're a fucking fool if you think you can be at the front lines. You're too weak! Too small." Too dear to me. It went unsaid, and Valé knew it was the meaning behind his biting words, but it never made them sting any less. 

It wasn't anything Valé didn't know about herself. She was fully aware of her size, stature, and limitations. To have her shortcomings shouted at her by someone she considered family hurt, but she knew why he did. He had the look of a man who loved too much, had lost too much, and was afraid of losing more. A quick wit and an unhealthy amount of red wine was usually enough to disguise it, but her near death experience had taken a toll on him. 

"You've said you know how you'd kill me," she mentioned to Bull as they sat inside the Heralds Rest, at his spot behind the stairs. She was looking at her hands, at the bruises dusted across her knuckles, but was too tired to heal them. They had returned from a short trip to the Emerald Graves the day before, and the exhaustion had seeped into her bones. Dorian hadn't joined them in the tavern. She could guess why. "Would it really be so easy?"

Bull set aside his drink and leveled his stare at her, and she thought that if he was more open with his facial expressions that he might be frowning, but she couldn't be sure. "This about Dorian?" 

She shrugged and looked back at her hands. Bull sighed. "You really wanna hear this?" 

She nodded at her bruises. 

He sighed again, heavier, and leaned back in his seat, the wood creaking and straining against his weight. "Honestly, yeah. It would." 

Valé frowned at her hands and looked up at him as he continued to speak. He held eye contact to gauge her reaction, but spoke casually. It was oddly morbid, him describing how she could die. "You're tiny. Even to all the people shorter than me, you're tiny. And skinny. No muscle. You couldn't put up much of a fight." She thought about the elaborate plans Bull had mentioned, trickery and lies and poisonings, and it felt almost insulting that none of that was needed for her murder. The only prerequisite was that she was alone, and then she would be defenseless.

"I have my magic," she countered weakly.

"Yeah, you have magic- but we both know you don't have much." She frowned at him again and he shrugged, almost smirking. "I've seen you fight, boss, I know how you operate. Your style is purely defensive. Wards, healing, that sort of shit. If you're with a team, somebody might just assume you're there to keep everyone on their feet, but if you're by yourself? Two minutes of watching you and I'd know that you're either only good at wards or don't have the stamina to heal yourself AND fight. Or both." 

He watched her gaze flit away from him defensively. "So both, then. You're not a powerful mage, and you can't fight for shit. Easy." 

She chewed the inside of her lip anxiously, lost in the hypothetical. She wondered who would mourn, how it would hurt them. Bull had laid out the scenario, but she knew he wouldn't hurt her. At least, not until he was given a reason, and she never planned on giving him one. He would miss her, she thought. He was too private about his emotions to let anyone see him mourn, but he might on his own, quietly, behind closed doors. Varric was more open than Bull, but would be kind enough to comfort others instead of wallowing. 

But Dorian- Dorian would.

She imagined the bags under his eyes, darker, his face pinched and still. He would probably cry, when he was alone. He would certainly be drunk. Would he shut himself away? Would his wit shift and change, more bitter and cruel than before? Or would he just...go quiet? That would be the worst, she thought. 

Bulls heavy hand on her back pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked the long way up at him. "You're not dead yet, boss."

"He's right," she admitted softly, barely audible over the warm, constant din of the tavern and Marydens music. "To worry. He's- he's not wrong. About me. Or my limits. But he's so fixated on it. You've seen how he's been since Haven." 

"You gave everybody a scare at Haven," Bull corrected gently. 

Haven hung heavy on her like a blanket, guilt wrapped firmly around her shoulders. All the lives she couldn't save, all the dead under the snow; she felt a debt to them, heavy and horrible, and immeasurable. Nothing she could ever repay in her liftime. And then there was the guilt she had towards the living, towards the fear she caused people, to the lives she risked, to her near failure. It haunted her.

"I know I did. I'm sorry." She looked at her knuckles again. "But he's - he's not alright, Bull. Surely you of all people can see that." 

He nodded thoughtfully. "He took it hard, yeah." 

"So what do I do? How do I fix it?" 

"Well, you know what he wants." He stretched his legs out in front of himself, crossing his ankles lazily, and she could hear the leather of his boots creak. "He wants you to stop going into the feild. At least until he thinks you aren't going to dissapear." 

"I can't do that," she said helplessly. "You know I can't, I'm the only one with this." She turned her left palm upward and gazed into the jagged green line against her skin. It was calm now, a dull glow, as if it were sleeping. Instead of the jabbing pain she felt in the feild, there was a lazy sensation of static. Even with it quiet, she felt another stab of guilt in her chest from looking at it. All because of this. All because of her. 

"So, you've got to stay with the party. Dorian knows that, even if he doesn't like it. So," Bull looked over at her. "What's the next best thing?" 

It was with that thought in mind that Valé found herself up on the ramparts, walking through the forgotten bits of Skyhold until she found and knocked on the door she was looking for. 

There was a scrape of a chair and a long moment before Cullen answered the door, mantle and armor abandoned in favor of a loose fitting sleep shirt. He looked tired, his hair falling out of place and beggining to curl. He looked irritated when the door first opened, ready to snap at whoever had disturbed him, but started when he saw Valé standing there instead, worrying a curl of her hair in her fingers and already stammering out an apology. 

"Commander, I'm sorry," she began nervously, "I've been- I forgot how late it was. Did I wake you? I'm sorry." 

"No, no." Cullen pulled at the drawstrings of his nightshirt to tighten them self conciously. "No, inquisitor, I was awake, I've been looking over paperwork. Honestly, this is a- welcome distraction." 

Valé smiled up at him, releived, and he cleared his throat, rubbing absently at the back of his neck. "What, ah- what can I help you with?" 

"I had a- a personal request," she responded, tucking the curl she had been pulling behind a pointed ear. 

Cullens eyebrows climbed, and he cleared his throat again. "Go on." 

"I need to learn how to fight." 

Cullen blinked. "Sorry?" 

Valé laughed nervously, and looked down at her shuffling feet. " I um. I know that- how weak I am. And that's been putting some people- it can't continue." She took a steadying breath. "I'm not strong enough for heavy weapons, but i- I'm quick. I just- need to not be helpless. Is there anyone that could spare the time to teach me?" 

"You want guidance from one of mine," he asked her, puzzled. "Why not a mage, like yourself?"

She shook her head. "Im- not that talented a mage," she admitted, "not when it comes to combat. I just need to know how to keep myself away from trouble, or how to escape it. Please, it would mean very much to me." 

Cullen nodded slowly. "If it would help, inquisitor, I can arrange something."

"Discreetly, if you can," she clarified, a light dusting of blush across her cheeks, showing her embarrassment. "Please. If it isn't possible, that's perfectly alright."

Cullen stood still a moment, thinking. He gave a delayed nod. "Yes, I um- I don't think it would be difficult to arrange something. I can-" he cleared his throat a third time and rubbed the back of his neck again. She wondered if it felt sore, and her fingers twitched with that want to heal the hurt. "I could- assist you myself." 

"Oh, no, thats-" Valé struggled to answer, waving a dismissive hand. "No, that's kind of you, but you're very busy, I wouldn't want to-" 

"It isn't any trouble," he interrupted gently. "You can count on my discretion, and carving out an hour a day is not so difficult. And again, it might be-" he balked, as if unsure of whether or not to continue speaking, and stared at her a moment, thinking. Assesing. " As I said. It would be a welcome distraction." 

She wasn't entirely sure what that meant. There was an air of admission in his tone, but she couldn't find one among the words. His eyes looked at her earnestly for a moment, before he glanced away. In the end, she decided not to pry. If he trusted her, the words would come to him. 

"That's a kind offer," she responded after a long moments silence. "When could we start?" 

She left the commanders office a moment later, having solidified plans for the following evening. The light from his office poured out onto the stone as she walked, lighting her way, only hearing the click of it closing as she reached the door to the rotunda. She glanced behind her, not sure what she was looking for, as she saw only the dimly lit parapet in the dark.

She continued up to her room, thinking of the evening, of her conversation with Bull, and her plans with Cullen. 

She had thought of how the others would react if she were gone, but not him. 

Would Cullen miss her, she wondered? 

Something in her hoped so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the encouragement I received. I know I'm not the best at this, but we all have to start somewhere, and practice can only make perfect if I keep going. Thank you for making me keep going. <3

Cullen remembered the first time he laid eyes on Valé rather vividly. 

 

She was.... Asleep wasn't the correct word, he supposed. Comatose seemed more appropriate. Comatose and chained. 

 

He remembered the poison in Cassandra's words as she described their plans, after she walked him down into the cells beneath the Haven chantry to look upon their prisoner. He remembered looking between Cassandra and the elven woman on the ground, lying on a mat in a cell, sweating, face pinching occasionally in pain, even while unconscious, and feeling confused. 

 

She's very small, he had thought to himself, not daring to share his thoughts with Cassandra at the time. Quite small, and very alone. Perhaps it was the pitiful position she was currently in, but he couldn't imagine this woman killing hundreds, perhaps thousands, at the conclave. 

 

Honestly, he couldn't see her doing much damage to anyone at all. 

 

That thought sprang to mind when he saw Valé descending the stone steps to their chosen meeting place, below the main hall, in the wide empty space near the kitchen and an old, dusty reading room. She smiled a little when she saw him, and pulled anxiously at the ends of her sleeves, switching to fidget with her curly hair instead, before realizing she had tied it back and couldn't. Her arms fell to her sides then, unsure of what to do, and she rocked on her heels. 

 

Makers breath, how had she survived this long? 

 

"Inquisitor," he greeted, standing up straight stiffly, and matching some level of her awkwardness. He had been leaning against the wall, staring at the painting that someone had decided to tuck away in a basement, waiting for her to arrive. They had scheduled their time for late in the evening, hoping that the late hour would give them time to finish their various daily duties without interruption, and to avoid any unwanted onlookers. It was well after the last meal of the day, and the kitchens were clean and empty. Things were, given her request, as discreet as he could make them. 

 

"Hello Commander," she responded, the formality feeling strange so long after dark for some reason. "I hope your day was- good? I mean, I did see you. Just I hope everything-" 

 

"Should we um," He interrupted, " get started?" 

 

"Oh. Yes, of course." She took another hesitant step towards him, standing up straighter. It did little to improve her height. "How do we-?"

 

Cullen cleared his throat, squared his shoulders. Acting the commander. "We'll begin with what you know," He responded. His hand went to rest upon the pommel of his sword out of habit, and he balked when it wasn't on his hip. His armor, mantle, and weapon laid on the floor against the wall where he had been leaning, folded neatly. He had tried to leave them in his room. There was clearly no need for his armor here, and any weapons he had the Inquisitor use would be wooden training weapons until she was more used to them, so he hardly needed his sword. But the idea of roaming Skyhold without his armaments had sent a sharp pain through his chest. Imagine if the troops had seen him, all but naked. Imagine if something attacked, and he was unprepared. Or if he stumbled upon a fight, and couldn't intervene. Or-

 

In the end, he brought it all with him. 

 

"What manner of combat are you accustomed to," He asked, beginning to pace. "What weapons are you comfortable using?"

 

"I have a staff," She supplied. It hung on a strap across her back, and she retrieved it, holding it in both hands to show him. 

 

"Is that all?"

 

She pulled the staff a little closer to her chest defensively. "well. I- a little."

 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. He had been expecting her knowledge to be minimal, that wouldn't have been a problem. But her knowledge appeared to be more... nonexistent. 

 

"Alright. Well, ah. A staff. Good." 

 

Valé wrung her hands against the polished wood. "Yes."

 

Silence hung in the air for a long moment. 

 

Valé broke it with a tired laugh.

 

"Fenhedis," She swore, "we're kind of- awful. At this. Aren't we?" She was smiling at him, awkwardly, but kindly. 

 

He cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck again. His cheeks felt warm. "We are a bit," He exhaled on a laugh. "Perhaps we'll get better with practice."

 

"That is the idea," She agreed. The lines and dots of her vallaslin on her face shifted and moved when she smiled, the color of a soft, old scar on her skin. He wondered if they would be raised off the skin like a scar would be. His fingers twitched with the sudden urge to touch. 

 

He cleared his throat again and looked away. 

 

"Then I suppose we'll just begin with what we have. You know how to use your staff to cast your spells, but do you know how to use it to block a blade?"

 

"I assume I put it in the way of the pointy bit trying to kill me?" A shadow of a smirk was on her lips.

 

"Yes, that's a good start," Cullen responded, giving her a smirk of his own in response, and retreiving a wooden training sword from the floor next to his clothes. 

 

This wouldn't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about the switching POV. Let me know your thoughts! And of course If you see any mistakes or have any suggestions, don't hesitate to tell me!
> 
> Also, for anyone that might have wondered, here are some portraits of Valé, just to put a face to her name. She's my baby, I would die for her. 
> 
> [Valé](https://teenypoppy.tumblr.com/post/180540664035/ive-finally-gotten-a-tablet-and-ive-been-trying)   
>  [ Valé pencil drawing ](https://teenypoppy.tumblr.com/post/178225513760/every-time-i-draw-vale-her-hair-gets-bigger-and)
> 
>    
> [Valé with a cute little haircut](https://teenypoppy.tumblr.com/post/183142128550/new-hair-new-me)  
> 


End file.
